Monday, November 21, 2005

A momentary lapse of reason

The smell of the crumpled paper came first. Then the sound. But only moments later. By then, my consciousness had been invaded. A mosquito made its way to my bare arm. My unforgiving palm came down on it. It died and was reborn a white hair. The white hair stood out, shining. Its reflection in the mirror was blinding. The entire room lit up and all you could see was the light. A doorway opened to darkness. I ran towards it and slipped in just as it was closing. The darkness melted into a river. I was carried by it as it gushed through the mountains. I landed in a lake in the middle of a volcano. Or what used to be a volcano. All the fishes were red, and hot. They glowed like embers of coal. There was a small fire by the river. The flames told me stories of the previous births of the offerings that roasted on it. As we bit into each of our offerings, we were transported into their future lives. We were friends in that life. All of us. Except for one. The one who had pretended to eat, but did not chew. He was an enemy in this life. He hid behind the ever changing forest. The trees turned to stone while he slept. He lay frozen in one of those stones. That way we could never get to him. There was no other way. We cut down the trees. The whole forest. For every tree we cut, another three grew. We were exhausted. We went back to the village and got drunk. This time the trees did not turn into stone. But the leaves vanished. Into thin air. They never came back. But he was gone. We thought that was the end. But it was not. It was only the beginning. We drifted. Each to his own. As I wandered many lands and created many stories for myself, I came upon a boy. He was blind in one eye. He led me to the wooden house. He called it the house of dreams. I went in through the back door. There was a long corridor with doors on both sides. The light was blue and green. It looked dangerous. At the end of the corridor there was a fat lady. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of her. She pushed me into a room. It opened up to the snow capped mountains. I tried to go back but there was a wall instead of a door. It was very cold. I started freezing. So I started running. As I ran I could feel the snow melting around me. But it was not melting. It was freezing. Into sheets of ice. I jumped onto one that was passing me by. And landed up in your room. Right behind you. Looking at you looking at the computer and reading this story. You wondered if I was really there. You looked back.

When I looked back I found you looking at me from the ice,slightly drunk,standing ten paces away from the fat lady, smelling like crumpled paper,covered in white,carrying a small stain of red on your bare arm,pulling me into the darkness of your eyes towards the lake that used to be a volcano,holding a red fish that burned itself in your hands and fell like the leaves that vanished from trees,turning into the stone,in which the man who did not chew his meat had disappeared.

the offering, it’s in the offering. be it bitter or be it sweet, if i, like he, only pretend to eat but do not bite into it, i am left out. i am as frozen as he in the cold stone. come eat of it, you say to me, taste it, chew it up, take it in…

I like it, and you did get me to look over my shoulder. It kind of reminds me of Lovecraft, the strange setting and quest. Almost like a dream. Your prose is so clipped that it sticks with me. There is something to be said about not saying much, but speaking volumes.

About Me

There is a magic in the air that permeates through the very soul of my existence. There is a stillness in the night that floods my senses beyond my imagination. There is a madness inside of me that overflows in everything that I create. There is a past behind me that is overcrowded with memories that drain me out.